"Thanks for going shopping with me," you said with a smile as you arrived at your house, pressing a kiss on Ghost's cheek before getting out of the car, making him feel as if your lips were burning a hole through the fabric of his balaclava. You got your shopping bags out of the trunk, looking like a kid on Christmas as you walked away, carrying them to your room.
Ghost sat in the car for a while, and a part of him wanted to scream. He wanted to punch the steering wheel as if it would help his situation. He hated you. No, he wanted to hate you. The problem was that he didn't. You were like a horrible addiction; he wanted to never see you again and, at the same time, wanted to have you around 24/7.
Not that he had a choice in that matter. For the time being, he had to be around you 24/7.
You could hear his heavy footsteps as he walked in through the front door and made his way over to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. You just chuckled, spending the rest of the day and the evening enjoying your new purchases, a grin spreading over your face every time your eyes landed on the small bag from the jewelry store. God, this was going to be a lovely present for Ghost; you just needed to wait for the right moment.
It was in the middle of the night when you heard the sound of a car engine in your driveway, announcing a rather unpleasant visitor. Your father must have come home from one of his business trips, and you prayed that he wouldn't stay for long.
Ghost was already fast asleep when your father arrived; that's why he was surprised when he walked into the kitchen the next morning. As if his subconsciousness already knew, he had put on a suit instead of one of the casual outfits he started to wear more often around you, and he was thankful for that as he spotted your father leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking his coffee. Somehow, that was even worse than seeing you first thing in the morning.
Your father was polished as always, just like when he interviewed Ghost for the position of your bodyguard. He looked at Ghost with an expression that was a mix of fake friendliness and arrogance as he held his hand out to him, making sure that Ghost saw the luxury Audemars Piguet watch on his wrist in an attempt to remind Ghost of his place.
Ghost already questioned how angry Price would be if he just killed your father—fuck gathering intel—when your father started to speak.
"I hope the little princess isn't tormenting you too much."
The way your father talked about you—the disdain noticeable in his voice—made Ghost's blood boil with anger. Yes, you were an annoying brat, and you made him question his sanity at least once a day, but somehow, he was the only one allowed to go around mocking you and the only one who got to complain about your princess behavior, not your asshole of a father.
"No, sir, we get along."
"Did she try to run off?"
"No, she behaved. She spends most of the time inside her room anyway," Ghost responded, not really knowing why he even bothered to lie for you; you were definitely not behaving, and if your father knew how you and he really got along, this would probably be Ghost's last day at his job.
But his answer seemed to please your father because he just nodded at him before he walked away towards his office. Ghost knew how to talk with people like your father and knew that they thrived off of feeling superior. The fact that your father was home for a few days until he'd hopefully leave again may have been an annoyance to you, but it gave Ghost the chance to find out more about him. Gave him the chance to place a GPS tracker in the wheel-arch liner of his car and gave him the chance to install spyware on his phones. It was surprising how a man like your father could lead a criminal organization that operated worldwide while being so stupidly carefree with his stuff. Well, maybe he felt safe in the confines of his home. That idiot.
You had made yourself comfortable in your room, not planning on leaving it for the time your father was home, not feeling the need to exchange even one word with him. You hated him with every fiber of your being, and you had good reasons to do so. For him, you weren't his daughter; you were more like a pretty accessory to bring to the country club, a pawn that could and would be used as soon as the perfect business opportunity opened up. Handing you over to a disgusting man who would offer enough money or business benefits to your father in exchange.
You really had no reason to talk to him. Ignoring whenever he knocked on your door and tried to talk to you with that fake, nice voice he always put on when he tried to coax you into thinking that he had changed and cared about you for once. But after all those years, you knew better than to fall into his traps. So you stayed inside your room for two days.
It took two damn long days until you heard his car leave the driveway again. You made your way down to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. Even though you had a ton of cookies and other snacks in your room, your body was screaming for real, nutritious food. After you had downed a bowl of salad that was big enough to fuel someone twice your size, you walked over to Ghost's room. Because apart from real food, you also craved real social interaction, and it wasn't like you could go out and meet up with anyone.
You reluctantly knocked on his door, not knowing what to expect. Not once did he come over to your room or try to talk to you while your father had been around, but it was probably better that way.
Ghost let out a sigh of frustration as he opened the door. He had just gotten out of that damn uncomfortable suit, enjoying his peace, until you, once again, decided to disturb it.
"What do you want?" he groaned, looking down at you as you stood in his doorway.
"You wanna watch a movie?"
Only God knew what got into him as he started to walk downstairs to the living room, making you hurry behind him like a lost duckling. He really wanted to be mean again; he should have probably slammed his door shut in front of your face. But you looked a bit lonely, and it would have been a blatant lie if he said that he didn't miss your stupid face and your horrible attitude in the past two days.
